


Chocolate, Coffee and Gingerbread

by Zeto



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-26
Updated: 2010-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeto/pseuds/Zeto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of the kisses between Eames and Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate, Coffee and Gingerbread

He could still remember the first time they'd met. Arthur had stayed up all night, poring over every single detail of the Reinhardt job, but no matter which way he turned it, the mission was impossible with just him, Mal and Cobb. He wasn't giving up though. Surrender was not a word he was well acquainted nor on speaking terms with.

It was just past eight in the morning when a low chuckle filtered through his brain, awakening his senses. Still groggy, Arthur lifted his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand; he hadn't meant to fall asleep, papers scattered about him. He stifled a yawn and met a pair of unfamiliar, amused eyes. Eyes as varied as a stormy sky. He jerked up, stiffening when he realized there was a stranger in their den. His gun was in his hand before his brain had even begun to catch up.

He also realized, a tad belatedly, Cobb was speaking. "...Eames. The Forger, and the answer to our current predicament."

"No. We can do this without an outsider." Arthur didn't have to meet the man to know he wasn't going to get along with him. There was just something about the stranger that set him on edge. Maybe because the first thing the man did was laugh at him.

"This isn't a choice, Arthur."

Snapping his mouth shut, he tucked his gun away, he eyed the hand Eames had extended and he found himself taking a hold of it, giving it a firm, hard shake. When he tried to retract his hand, he found Eames' grip a little tighter than he'd expected.

"This isn't a dance, Mr. Eames," he dryly remarked.

"Would you like it to be?" the other man, a Brit by the accent, purred with a gleam in his eyes.

"Hardly," came the instantaneous reply.

If he'd known just how well the British man would insinuate himself into his life, Arthur probably would have run away, as fast and far as possible. Well, probably not, because he was Arthur, but he would have come up with a way to deter the hazel-eyed Forger.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The first time they kissed, Arthur tasted like dark chocolate liberally sprinkled with praline pecans and cherries. That was probably because the younger man had been having a taste of those opulent, upscale truffles imported from Sweden. The ones where one single piece was probably worth about as much as Eames' tie. It was the last thing the Forger had been expecting to see Arthur splurging on, if he were honest with himself. He'd figured the slender man to be frugal and no-nonsense about his diet, like every other aspect of his life.

After all, Arthur was all crisp, clean shirts and perfectly-knotted ties. Narrow lines following the toned angles of his slender frame. Hair slicked back and tamed as though the other man were afraid of looking imperfect, unprofessional. Not a single strand out of place. Not a wrinkle on his immaculate suit. Why, Eames was even willing to bet that his nails were perfectly trimmed and polished.

It made Eames want to muss him and throw him off, just to see some emotion in those dark eyes. He wanted to ruffle some feathers, so to speak. He didn't get a chance though, because the moment Arthur realized what was going on, he'd given the Briton a hard shove, dark eyes flaring with anger.

"Don't do that again," came the icy, hard words as he caught the slow smirk that curled the Forger's lips. It only served to anger him further and he pivoted and stalked off, missing the words that came next.

"I don't think I could stop if I tried, darling."

  


*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

  
The second time they kissed, Arthur tasted like coffee. Black coffee. Eames himself, preferred his caffeine with at least four sugars and enough cream to turn the drink into a milky-white liquid. A generous splash of Baileys never went amiss either. He knew his version of coffee made Arthur want to gag, but he'd always liked something a bit sweeter than just beans. Somehow though, Eames had a feeling he could get used to this bitter taste so long as it was accompanied by Arthur, all heat and velvet.

They were in a dream when it happened. A trial run before their job next week. It was supposed to be a relatively simple extraction. A two-man job. Except Eames couldn't seem to keep his hands and tongue to himself.

With a growl, Arthur pushed himself away from the other man and slugged him hard across the jaw.

"I thought I told you to never do that again," he glared at Eames before pulling out his trusty Glock and shooting him in the chest.

"What happened?" Cobb asked after they were both brought out of the dream state.

"Was it really necessary to shoot me?" The broad-shouldered brunet pulled a wounded face.

Arthur's jaw tightened as he stared resolutely at the far wall, but other than that, he gave no indication that he'd heard anything. Let Eames deal with Cobb. He pulled the needle from his arm, slid off the lawn chair and left. He didn't know what Eames was playing at, but he didn't appreciate it. The idiot was trying to throw him off his game or something.

"Eames?" Cobb turned to the Brit.

The Forger gave a carefree shrug as if he didn't know how to explain Arthur's bad mood.

  


*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

  
Don't think about elephants. What are you thinking about?

Elephants.

Don't think about Eames. What are you thinking about?

 _The fucking Forger._

Arthur bit back a groan, staring at the words swimming across the page. He'd been trying to study up on their latest job for the last hour, to no avail. He'd been reading the same page without actually seeing a single word. It was frustrating beyond belief. If he'd had a little less self control, he probably would have been tearing out his hair by this point. He didn't know what Eames' game was, and he didn't appreciate it.

After the inception of Fischer, he'd fully expect the team to part ways until they were needed again. Ariadne would go back to her schooling. Yusuf and Eames back to Mombasa, Kenya. Cobb to his family and Saito to his empire in Japan.

The Japanese man was the only one to take his leave and return to his corporation, satisfied with the results of the job. He'd never really been part of the team. He'd only insisted on joining in to ensure the success of the mission, after all.

Word underground had spread about an unbeatable team. A team that could do anything, do the impossible. For the right price, of course. So they'd decided to set up a base in New York City. Cobb was the only one with familial obligations. Even though the Fischer job had been "the last job" for Cobb, he still found himself yearning for the thrill of the dream scape. He mostly stayed on to mentor Ariadne though, instead of going out into the field. Ariadne had decided to complete her schooling via correspondence; the lure of dreams was too tempting. Eames hadn't mentioned anything to return to. Arthur figured it would be exactly like the last time. The Brit would stick around for a few jobs before he got bored and returned to freelancing. The money didn't hurt either, of course.

So as much as Arthur wanted to forget about the ever-so irritating Forger, they weren't going to be very far from one another. They may have had separate hotel rooms but for Arthur, _out of sight_ did not translate to _out of mind_. He tossed the folder onto the mahogany desk and pushed away from the table, standing up and stretching. Shoving his wallet into his back pocket and checking for his ever-handy loaded die, the Point Man decided a walk was in order.

He unbolted the hotel door, opened it and was about to step out when he came face to face with Eames. Eames who was about to knock on his face. He hadn't been expecting anyone to be there. It would have been funny, a distant part of Arthur's mind supplied. He told the wayward thought to shut up, jerked back and slammed the door shut.

"Arthur?" came the muffled voice.

He didn't answer. For some reason, his heart was racing but he didn't know why.

"Arthur."

"Sorry...I was expecting Ariadne," he fibbed, the lie slipping so easily from his lips.

By the time he opened the door again, the hallway was empty.

For some reason, Arthur didn't feel like going for a walk anymore.

  


*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

  
The third time they kissed had been right around Christmas time, right after a successful extraction. There had been a large corporate party at a hotel. The mark was an incoming professional. The New VP. He came with a list of references and recommendations as long as Cobb's arm but the President was still uncertain about his loyalties.

It hadn't been a hard job. Have a pretty little thing named Ariadne, in a hot red dress, ply him with alcohol, take him up to a room, knock him out and search his mind for his loyalties.

The man had turned out to be clean.

"That's what I like. No complications, no sedation, nothing but an easy-in-easy-out," Arthur commented as the trio took to a lounge to celebrate. Cobb had shown up a short while later, for a drink or two, and to debrief on the mission.

"Easy for you to say," huffed Ariadne. "You didn't spend half the night getting pawed by a drunk man."

"I reckon I could fix that for you, darling," Eames grinned at the Architect with a sidelong glance at Arthur.

Drawn into a conversation with Cobb, Arthur hadn't heard the Forger's sly remark. As they whiled the time away, Arthur had lost track of the number of drinks he'd had. Normally, he kept a keen mind on such details but it was Christmas. He figured he could afford to take a breather.

The trio had all gotten separate flats to live in while they worked and when Ariadne had taken her leave of the group, citing upcoming exams, Cobb had offered to escort her home before returning to his house and his children; he didn't want to be away from them for too long, after all. That left Eames and Arthur. They settled into a comfortable silence, nursing their drinks. Bourbon for the Point Man and Whiskey for the Forger.

Arthur found himself studying the Briton, discovering humour in his choice of drink. Elegant, thick fingers wrapped around his Glencairn Glass. His dark hair, allowed to grow out and gel free, tousled ever-so carelessly. The stubble on his face, suggesting that razor hadn't touched skin in a couple of days.

If Eames had noticed the inquisitive gaze, he didn't mention it.

It was a short while later when they left the lounge. By unspoken agreement, Eames walked Arthur to his apartment. Not that Arthur needed an escort. Not that Eames was offering.

"You know what my first thought was, when I first met you?" Eames suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence.

Arthur merely tilted his head and waited.

"I thought you were the most adorable thing. Hair all mussed up, sleeping atop a pile of papers, drooling," came the reply, accompanied by twinkling stormy eyes. "Then you woke up, opened your mouth and ruined it."

He expected the elbow and nimbly dodged it. The boot stomping down on his, on the other hand, that was a surprise.

They came to a halt, right outside the high rise.

And this time, this third kiss, Arthur was prepared for.

Eames tasted like the gingerbread cookies he'd been nibbling on. All sweet and spice. Fortunately for him, Arthur loved the taste of gingerbread. So when the Forger had stopped him from going inside, gazing down at him without a trace of a smile for once, Arthur had simply looked back. He could feel the hand wrapped around his elbow, with the silent message, telling him to wait, telling him 'don't go'.

And when Eames slowly leaned down, giving Arthur plenty of time to back up, the Point Man hadn't moved a muscle. Instead, his eyes flicked from hazel orbs to full pink lips and back again. Then they fluttered shut when a cool mouth touched his own. His tongue darted out, chasing after the taste of gingerbread and whiskey. He bit down lightly on that full lower lip, and was delighted to hear a small groan from Eames. One hand tangled in the dark locks before cupping the back of Eames' head.

It was only the need for air that forced him to pull away, resting his forehead against Eames'.

"What are we doing, Mr. Eames?" he asked breathlessly.

There was a low chuckle that sent shivers dancing up his spine.

"If you really have to ask, darling..."

END  


**Author's Note:**

> So. Inception has officially eaten my brain. I kid you not. Also, not beta-ed, sorry! If you find any glaring mistakes, please let me know! Thanks~!
> 
> Also, disclaimer: Inception is Christopher Nolan's amazing creation. I don't own these bloody brilliant characters.


End file.
